


Here Comes the Bride

by bluebeholder



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Chaos, Fluff and Crack, Happy Ending, Improv, Minor Injuries, Multi, Pretend breakup, Sort Of, Team as Family, Wedding Planning, mentions of aveline and donnic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24666529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: The older set of Hawke twins are always getting into interesting adventures. This time, they're determined to drag all of their friends into a piece of soap-opera-worthy improv theater set in a wedding boutique. It may just be an excuse to drink champagne, but their friends agree to go along (even if Fenris thinks this is an atrocious idea). In the process, secrets are revealed and new relationships blossom.It must be something in the air.
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age), Bethany Hawke/Josephine Montilyet, Carver Hawke/Merrill, Female Hawke/Varric Tethras, Male Hawke/Isabela
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Here Comes the Bride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pyxyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyxyl/gifts).



> This is dedicated to my sister and her college friends, who were going to do just exactly this stunt before their senior year of college was cut short by COVID-19. In honor of their friendship (and with her permission), I've written the fic you see here. I tried to channel the chaotic energy of the stories I've been told about her crew. Hopefully I did them all justice!

Marian Hawke is impossible to say “no” to. Her twin brother Garrett Is just as bad. Between them, it’s a wonder Fenris hasn’t been arrested yet.

In college they all may be, but somehow the twins always manage to find time for escapades of increasing drama. Somehow they always manage to rope most of their friends into participation. And, somehow, everyone always ends up having fun.

They’re the reason Fenris was coaxed into participating in street racing in the middle of the night last summer. They’re the reason he (and the rest of their friends) are no longer permitted in the roller-skating rink. They’re the reason that Anders stole two un-adoptable cats from a local shelter, that Merrill nearly got caught making moss graffiti and planting trees in potholes, that Isabela ended up owning a boat formerly belonging to Mayor Dumar, that Fenris’ white ink tattoos now cover his entire body.

But this idea…this idea takes the cake.

“Oh, come on,” Marian urges, elbows on the table and leaning across it. “Isabela and Merrill are already on board!”

“Isabela just wants the free champagne,” Fenris points out.

Garrett laughs. “That she does,” he says. “ _But_ you know that she also likes good fun.”

“This is unethical.”

“Not from the stories I’ve heard,” Marian says, with the kind of surety that always precedes something genuinely terrifying. Her blue eyes glint with mischief. “I won’t even be a bridezilla, promise!”

Fenris, after a great deal of coercion (and the promise that he won’t have to do anything but sit there and sip champagne), finally agrees. It’s a ridiculous plan, but then again—he doesn’t have weekend plans or any exams next week. What’s to lose?

As it turns out, Garrett was so sure that they’d all say yes that he already booked the appointment at the wedding dress boutique three weeks ago.

They gather at the Hanged Man. Both sets of Hawke twins, of course, with Merrill on Carver’s arm and Isabela cheerfully in Garrett’s lap. Bethany suffers her brothers’ antics with her usual serenity and dry commentary. Marian, wearing a pearl headband and odd little veil, is less drunk on alcohol and more on excitement. Varric looks equally excited—and if the looks he and Marian keep giving each other are any indication, this whole idea may just be Garrett trying to set Varric and Marian up for good. Aveline and Donnic, the long-suffering grad students who’ve taken on the task of shepherding this assemblage of misfits, are reasonably calm. Sebastian pulled himself away from his fraternity—one sponsored by the Chantry, and the one that throws the most legendary, drunken parties on campus—for the evening on Marian’s behalf. Fenris, meanwhile, keeps a respectable distance between himself and Anders; what goes on in their apartment behind closed doors is no one’s business but theirs, and neither of them want to put up with teasing.

Once drinks arrive, Garrett and Marian lay out their plan. They spread a dozen sheets of paper, sketches and scripts and so on, across the table. Fenris shares a confounded look with Merrill.

“It’s for the champagne and strawberries,” Garrett says.

“And the chance to have fun,” Marian adds.

The plan, simply, is to acquire free champagne by faking a disastrous bridal party’s appointment at a dress boutique. (“It doesn’t count as free if you paid for the appointment,” Aveline points out, thoroughly ignored by the Hawkes.) After a _great_ deal of deliberation and persuasion, the twins got everyone else on board. “We even scheduled the appointment so none of you would have exams next week,” Garrett says smugly.

“Hang on,” Anders says, looking alarmed, “how did you know my schedule?”

Garrett shrugs. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

“I stole your planner,” Isabela says.

“Spoilsport!” Garrett says, as Anders starts in on complaining at Isabela to give it back.

Fenris kicks Anders under the table to shut him up. Anders gives him a flat look, but hushes all the same. “Since you’ve so thoroughly planned this scam,” Fenris says, “hand out our roles.”

“I hope you didn’t give me anything terrible,” Sebastian says, looking sanctimonious.

Isabela throws a balled-up napkin at him. “I saw you doing keg stands last weekend,” she says and Sebastian stammers. “I hope she gave you the worst part!”

Marian is of course playing the role of bride. Merrill will be the friend who admires every single dress, Isabela will dismiss every single dress, and Bethany cheerfully agrees to snipe at her sister about “getting married before me” the whole time. Fenris is the token male best friend, expected only to drink and occasionally offer perfunctory compliments, which he appreciates.

On the other side of the table, Varric will be the groom-to-be. Garrett and Carver are concerned brothers, both groomsmen—with Garrett convinced that Varric is the right partner, and Carver convinced that he isn’t. Sebastian is supposed to stand by as the reasonable and gallant groomsman, who will in the chaos remove the champagne and snacks at the last minute. And Anders…well.

“ _I’m_ the jilted ex!?” he demands, looking even more outraged.

“You’re perfect for the role,” Fenris says, finishing his drink and reaching over to take Anders’.

“ _And_ you’re also the best man! The ex-lover, now watching his lover getting married to his best friend,” Garett says. “You get the most fun!”

Rounding out the plan, Aveline and Donnic are to play the role of the suddenly-arriving wedding planner and photographer. They’ll smooth over any ruffled feathers and help manage any potential damages or extra fees. (“I’ll pay you back for anything,” Garrett says earnestly.)

The plan, in sum, is quite simple. The bridal party will arrive for the appointment, lounging and drinking champagne while Marian tries on every dress she can manage. After an hour or so, Anders—on the pretext of “checking in” on the appointment—will arrive, and flirt aggressively with Marian. Then Carver, Garrett, Sebastian, and Varric will arrive, and verbal fisticuffs will break out. Isabela offers to slap someone if necessary. Of course the whole party will get thrown out, hopefully with the remaining champagne that Sebastian will collect on the way out the door. Aveline and Donnic will come in an hour later, deliver apologies, and make sure no one is too angry.

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Carver mutters.

“I think you mean best, dear,” Merrill says, kissing him on the cheek, and Carver blushes redder than his Bloody Mary.

The rest of the week passes without incident. Fenris rushes to make sure all his studying and assignments are done before Saturday, so he’ll have the whole weekend to recover from the chaos about to ensue. Anders does the same thing, and they barely have the chance to talk in passing until Friday night, when they find themselves lying on the couch in their tiny living room, Mr. Wiggums the cat on the back of the couch and Ser-Pounce-A-Lot on Anders’ lap, staring at a terrible movie together.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Anders says after a while.

“I can,” Fenris says. “It’s the Hawkes.”

Anders sighs. “Well, yes,” he says. “It is the Hawkes.”

“At least they didn’t try to make one of us play the role of bride,” Fenris says with a shrug.

“I don’t know,” Anders says, smirking, “I think you’d look rather good in a dress.”

“Cross-dressing is _your_ thing, not mine,” Fenris says.

Ser-Pounce-A-Lot, in Anders’ lap, purrs louder as if laughing. “Fair enough,” Anders says. He laughs. “Should I buy a dress, then?”

Fenris winces. “Yes, but not one that costs as much as your tuition.”

“You have a point,” Anders says, and leans over to kiss Fenris on the cheek.

Fenris ends up driving the girls, who appear to have…pre-gamed the event a little. Isabela is already a little tipsy, and Fenris sees her discreetly tuck a flask in her pocket. Marian rolls down all the windows and insists on leaning out, whooping and waving at every car they pass. Merrill, riding shotgun, is the only normal one this morning, carrying on a perfectly ordinary conversation about her irritating physics professor Solas and commiserating on the nightmare of the calculus class she and Fenris share.

Upon arrival, Marian sweeps straight into the boutique with a confidence that quite frankly terrifies Fenris. He feels _very_ out of place in this genteel space. They aren’t the only bridal party—a second room has a group of enthusiastic people helping a pair of brides try on dresses. After just a few moments, three _extraordinarily_ elegant persons descend on Marian and the rest.

The regal black woman introduces herself as Vivienne, the small and cheerful woman introduces herself as Josephine, and the mustachioed man gives a bow and gives his name as Dorian. “We will be assisting you today,” Vivienne says.

Josephine chivvies the party back to the other private room, keeping up a steady stream of questions and compliments. Fenris trails behind, looking around at the displays of gorgeous wedding gowns, rainbows of bridesmaid dresses, and elegant vases of flowers. A regret floats through his mind that they’re about to pull this stunt.

“You know, it’s good to see some masculine support for Miss Hawke,” Dorian says, appearing at Fenris’ side. He lowers his voice a bit. “Parties with men in them tend to be…more reasonable, in my experience. If you’ll pardon my bluntness.”

“Reasonable?” Fenris asks, looking sideways at Dorian.

Dorian shrugs. “Fewer histrionics,” he says. A smile plays around his mouth. “Though I will say that drama can be rather entertaining to tell about later.”

Vivienne, a clipboard suddenly under her arm, comes up on Fenris’ other side. “We won’t be telling any stories now, Dorian,” she says severely.

“Come now, Viv,” Dorian says. He winks. “I know you liked watching Miss Stannard trying on dresses for her fifth wedding.”

“Well,” Vivienne says, with a reluctant smile, “sometimes they do make for good stories.”

Fenris suddenly feels much better about this whole production.

In the private room, he, Isabela, Bethany, and Merrill are quickly ensconced on comfortable couches and offered champagne (the goal of all this). Marian steps up onto a low dais half surrounded by floor-to-ceiling mirrors, giggling in a way Fenris has _never_ seen her do before and _never_ wishes to again. The girls are all laughing and smiling, too, bright-eyed and joyful. It’s all very…exciting.

“I almost wish this were real,” Fenris mutters to Isabela when Dorian, Vivienne, and Josephine are briefly out of the room.

“Sweetheart,” Isabela says, watching Marian look wistfully down at her phone’s lockscreen and the photo of herself, Varric, and Garrett on it, “I’m pretty sure that if things go according to plan, we’ll be doing this for real in a year or so.”

Vivienne comes back with that clipboard, only this time Dorian has one too. While Josephine perches on the sofa and makes small talk—especially with Bethany, Fenris notes—the other two ask Marian a battery of questions that makes his head spin. Merrill and Isabela jump in when necessary, offering their own input; Marian always agrees enthusiastically, even to the contradictory suggestions Isabela throws out.

What’s the theme? Formal and classic, Marian says; Isabela chimes in that there will be rustic elements since it’s to be held in a barn.

In what season will the wedding be held? Next summer, Marian says.

What are three adjectives Marian would use to describe her dress? Flowing, clean, and lacy, she says, with starry eyes; Merrill asks if Marian forgot about “ivory” in her list.

What fabrics would she most consider? Both chiffon and silk.

Classic theme aside, would she consider trendy dresses? Maybe, Marian says, she’d have to see. And would she consider vintage (since they have a few beautiful examples in stock)? Just like the trendy ones, she’d have to see.

Does she have preferences for neckline? Sweetheart, Marian says. “Go for a plunging one, love,” Isabela says, “show off that cleavage!” Marian blushes, stammers, and everyone shares in a laugh as Fenris whacks Isabela lightly.

Dorian asks if she’d consider dresses outside the white-ivory-cream palette—perhaps a pink or red or even a daring black or gray. Vivienne asks for the budget. Measuring tape in hand, Dorian asks if he can check Marian’s measurements again. Vivienne wants to know about potential accessories and family heirlooms (Merrill produces a stunning earring and necklace set from her purse and Bethany leaps up with scanned photos of her mother’s wedding veil, which Leandra must have sent her).

How Dorian, Vivienne, and Josephine don’t pick up on the fact that this is a farce is beyond Fenris entirely. Then again, Dorian did mention wild stories. Perhaps they’ve seen worse than this.

At last (after a shockingly short time, only fifteen minutes) all the questions have been answered to satisfaction. Dorian, Josephine, and Vivienne go into conference; it seems Josephine has the best knowledge of the boutique’s stock. Fenris, after a frantic text storm between himself and the girls, fires off a discreet message to the other men that this is going to take longer than expected, and to delay their arrival by perhaps fifteen minutes. The appointment is two hours, so it won’t be that severe of a delay, but they want Marian _in_ a dress when things get going.

Josephine brings two dresses out for initial consideration. One is a sleek, ivory, sweeping gown like a mermaid’s tail, with an incredibly long train; the other Fenris thinks looks like a princess’s dress, perfectly white, with that sweetheart neckline, and lace going up in a high collar and long sleeves.

Marian starts with the mermaid gown. Merrill oohs and aahs as Dorian flits around Marian, checking the fit; Isabela’s comment that the train seems a little unflattering is met with a discreet scowl from Vivienne. The second one—well, Fenris suddenly remembers why he used to have a crush on Marian, seeing her twirling around on the dais with the wide skirt flaring about her. He thinks very fixedly on the idea of Anders in that dress and finds himself distracted for an entirely different reason.

“No,” Marian says, after a moment’s consideration. “I think I’d like to try on something else.”

By this time, Josephine has appeared with a vintage dress, sleek and just barely floor-length, with an accompanying embroidered bolero jacket. _That_ gets excitement from everyone.

“I wish I were shopping for wedding dresses,” Bethany says with a great sigh.

“Someday,” Josephine says sympathetically, gently patting Bethany’s shoulder. Bethany looks up at Josephine with a smile and Fenris hides a smile of his own with a cough into his elbow. That looks very promising for Bethany.

But Marian, after some thought, discards this dress too. Fenris glances at the clock. They’re an hour in. Anders should be arriving any minute now.

And he does, with his inimitable sense of timing, just as Marian comes out of the dressing room in a gown Dorian had insisted she try on. It’s red—red as the ancestral war paint Marian has always insisted she’ll wear at her wedding—and, though similar in silhouette to the second dress, has something about it that makes her lift her chin and look fierce.

“Well,” Anders drawls from the door, “ _that’s_ a look.”

All eyes turn to him. Fenris briefly forgets how to talk: he’s never seen Anders look like this, with his hair loose and an earring in and leather jacket artfully draped over his shoulders. He looks absolutely rakish, so far from the prospective med student that Fenris knows he’s almost a different person. And somehow, looking between his rakehell appearance and the blood-red gown Marian wears, that deception they’re planning seems even more plausible. They _match_.

Dorian recovers first. “And who are you?” he asks, suddenly stern. “This is a private appointment.”

“I’m the best man,” Anders says. He grins, coming to stand behind Fenris, planting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not supposed to tell the groom what the dress looks like, but he’s so desperate for any hints…poor guy asked me to come and at least get some hints.”

“You can’t tell Varric!” Merrill says, waving her hands like Anders is a gnat she’s batting away. “He can’t know until the wedding.”

“I could hint that she looks…stunning,” Anders says, raking his eyes up and down Marian’s figure. “Like she _always_ does.” He’s playing this whole jealous-ex thing to the hilt, and were it not for the way he’s squeezing Fenris’ shoulder Fenris might well believe him.

“Anders,” Bethany says, warningly, as Marian meets Anders’ eyes in the mirror and seemingly blushes on command.

“She does indeed look stunning,” Vivienne says, with more serenity than Fenris would have thought possible in the atmosphere. “Miss Marian, are you happy with this?”

Marian shakes herself. “I like it,” she says, the blush not fading. “But I’d like to try something else, maybe?”

“Plunging neckline,” Isabela stage-whispers, and that pulls a laugh out of everyone.

Fenris downs an entire glass of champagne for fortification as Josephine brings out another dress—this one sleek save a long, floating chiffon cape—and guides Marian to the dressing room. Vivienne strikes up a smooth conversation with Merrill and Isabela, while Dorian ostensibly checks things on his clipboard. Fenris notices that Dorian is not reading, though. He’s watching Anders closely.

Bethany gets up, then, and comes around the sofa to stand close to Anders. “You shouldn’t be here,” she says, fierce and quiet.

Anders lets go of Fenris. Fenris turns to see him folding his arms. “I’m part of the wedding party and Varric asked me to come.”

“She’s getting married to _Varric_ , not _you,_ ” Bethany says.

“I know,” Anders says, looking toward the dressing room.

But there’s no more time for byplay as Marian comes out again, looking hopeful. “I like this one,” she says, as Dorian adjusts the long cape about her shoulders. Her farmer’s tan is very noticeable in this one, but it doesn’t matter. If she were getting married, Fenris suspects, she’d wear a dress just like this.

“It really looks beautiful,” Merrill says.

“Truly magical, Marian,” Fenris says, raising his (third) glass of champagne to her with a genuine smile. Then he looks down at his phone and sends the text telling the other men to come on in. And then Fenris braces himself for the storm.

A few moments later, as Marian is starting to ask shy questions about tailoring and how much a matching veil would cost, Garrett pokes his head around the corner into the room. “Hey!” he says.

“How many more of you are there?” Dorian asks, looking dumbfounded.

“Oh, Maker,” Bethany says, as Garrett slips into the room with Carver and Sebastian on his heels. Sebastian has put on his best sanctimonious face, while Garrett and Carver just look worried.

“Which one of them is the groom?” Josephine whispers to Fenris.

Varric comes in, then, full of visible bravado and nerves, half as tall and twice as handsome as any other man in the room. “He is,” Fenris whispers back, getting to his feet. “There’s going to be trouble.”

“Sorry, Marian,” Varric says, looking up at her where she stands on the dais. “Should’ve waited for the wedding, but I had to come.”

There’s a brief moment where they’re just looking at each other, Marian wide-eyed and genuinely blushing, Varric’s perpetual knowing smirk blown away by true amazement.

“Look,” Garrett says, breaking the silence with furrowed brows and folded arms, “Anders wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“What!?” Bethany demands.

Anders holds up his hands. “You all know I didn’t mean any harm—”

“As if,” Fenris says, rising to his feet and looking up at Anders. It’s not hard to get back the scowl and sharp tone he’d always used on Anders when they first met, though it feels awkward. “You very rarely _mean_ anything.”

“I meant everything I ever said to Marian,” Anders says. “You all—”

“There’s no call for any of this now,” Sebastian says.

“I _quite_ agree,” Vivienne says. “This is an issue to be decided outside our establishment.”

“No, no, let the man speak,” Carver says. He glares at Garrett. “Maybe it should have been decided earlier, but _you_ just swept everything under the Blighted rug!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Fenris sees Josephine gently guiding Marian back into the dressing room. Perfect timing. Dorian looks appropriately shocked, but the vaguely entertained looks he’s shooting at Vivienne are reassuring. Fenris turns his attention back to Anders. “Your hurt feelings are not any of the rest of our problem.”

“Marian deserves better than a second-rate writer,” Anders snaps. “I’d think, as her _friends_ , you’d see that!”

“Varric’s books are good!” Merrill says, outraged.

“That aside, Marian deserves better than a man who—” Garrett stops and coughs. “Never mind.”

“Who _what_?” Isabela demands. “If you’re airing all the dirty laundry, then say it!”

“Who cheated on her with _my girlfriend_ ,” Garrett says, glaring at Isabela.

Oh.

That’s not in the script.

“Kaffas,” Fenris mutters.

“You did _what_!?” Bethany shrieks. She moves as if to slap Anders, swinging wide and theatrical, but Merrill catches her and starts pulling her toward the door. The two of them vanish out the door and a moment later the front door’s bell jingles.

Marian stumbles out of the dressing room, in her own clothes and eyes damp with sudden tears (which Fenris is sure came from eyedrops). “You know who was there for me when you abandoned me?” she sobs. “ _Varric_. He stayed with me when you were off—”

“It was a mistake!” Isabela says, throwing her hands in the air. “We were drunk and stupid!”

“ _Out!_ ” Vivienne commands, cutting through the rising argument.

Fenris sees Sebastian discreetly sweep up the remaining drinks and snacks and make his way out the door, unnoticed in the chaos and confusion. He pushes Carver toward the door and Carver goes, making angry noises about how “at least Anders is a productive member of society.” Fenris moves toward the door, but pauses. The others are getting more heated, their voices rising.

“You broke her heart and walked away,” Varric says, glaring up at Anders. “We let you back into this wedding because you and I go back and Carver vouched for you, but now you show up here—”

“Because it’s a crime to see the woman whose wedding I’m in,” Anders snaps.

“It’s a crime when you _cheated on her_!” Garrett roars.

“I thought you’d let that go,” Isabela says, tossing her hair. “It’s _just sex_.”

Garrett glares at her. Sometimes Fenris forgets how big the man is, but right now… “That’s not what you said when you came crying back to me.”

And that’s when the actual slap happens. Isabela is faster than Bethany and no one moves to stop her as she slaps Garrett right on the face. “We’re _done_ ,” she hisses.

Before Garrett can move, Marian has hold of one of his arms and Varric the other, dragging him out of the room. Isabela stalks after them in glowering silence, leaving Anders and Fenris alone with the three employees. Anders is doing a wonderful job looking despairing and tragic.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Fenris says, trying for delicate. “There’s…history.”

“We _heard_ ,” Vivienne says, eyes round.

“I’m very sorry for…that,” Fenris says, gesturing vaguely around the room. “It was a pleasant experience. Thank you for your time.”

“Um. You’re very welcome,” Josephine says, looking equally bowled over.

“You know,” Dorian says, “I take back what I said about parties with men in them.”

Fenris has to fight a laugh at that, and in the interest of not bursting into laughter right then and there, he grabs Anders by the wrist, nods at the employees, and hauls Anders out of the store.

His car is the only one left, so he and Anders get in and drive five minutes down the street to the park where they’d decided on the rendezvous. By the time they get there, Fenris is laughing and Anders is downright cackling. They get out to find the rest of their friends in equal hysterics. Marian is lying in the grass howling with laughter, Isabela is apologetically icing Garrett’s cheek while he laughs, Bethany and Merrill lean on Carver as they sit at a picnic table laughing, Varric is already writing everything down in his notebook, and Sebastian is enjoying one of the bottles of champagne.

“You should have seen your _face_ when I accused Isabela of cheating, Fenris,” Garrett says, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“You went off script!” Fenris says, sitting down beside Sebastian and snatching up a chocolate-covered strawberry.

“Lucky thing I’m good at improv,” Isabela says, kissing Garrett on the un-slapped cheek.

Anders flops in the grass next to Marian. “Did I pull off the ‘jealous ex’ well enough?”

She props herself up on an arm and looks at him. “I almost believed we’d been dating,” she says, breathless. “Also, you should wear that earring more often, it’s…”

“Amazing,” Fenris fills in. “I didn’t think you owned one.”

“It’s an old thing,” Anders says, twisting his head around to look at Fenris.

“Should let Marian wear it at her real wedding,” Varric says absently. “Something old and something borrowed all in one.”

Carver looks up, eyes glinting with mischief. “And just _who_ is she marrying at that real wedding?”

Varric clears his throat and does not look up from his notebook.

“No matter who it is, I think I’ll have a plus one,” Bethany says smugly. She holds up her phone. “I got Josephine’s number and we’re already planning a date.”

“You can’t tell her about this,” Sebastian protests.

“Oh yes I can,” Bethany says. She grins. “It’ll be a great story down the line. Especially the part about Anders and his magic transformation from ‘tired student’ to ‘steamy romance novel hero.’”

“He should wear that look more often,” Fenris says thoughtlessly.

There’s a general pause. Everyone looks at Fenris, then at Anders. Fenris feels a hot blush creeping up his ears. Anders looks like he’s been sunburned.

“It’s got to be something in the air at a wedding boutique,” Merrill says. “Just—generates feelings of love, you know?”

“Yeah. I know,” Marian says, looking over at Varric with a soft, adoring smile that Fenris has never seen on her before.

“Imagine if he’d seen you with that plunging neckline,” Isabela says.

Fenris groans and drops his face in his hands.

-

Three years later, in the audience at Marian and Varric’s wedding, an engagement ring of his own on his hand, Fenris is very glad he’d gone along on that ridiculous adventure.


End file.
